


A Silence That Suffocates

by TheSushiMonster



Series: you and i [7]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9574541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: Bonnie visits her mother and tries to sleep. Spoilers for 8x11.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A quick processing drabble. I'm aiming to write happier stuff as I cling unto hope for the next five weeks.

Abby had carried her into the guest room sometime after midnight. Bonnie would have been embarrassed - tear-stained cheeks and alcohol-breath aren’t something you want the parent that abandoned you to see - if Bonnie cared.

She doesn’t.

At first, Bonnie lies face up on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She wishes that Abby had brought up the almost-empty bottle of bourbon she had been drinking. It’d be something to do. Without anything to occupy her, she thinks.

Bonnie doesn’t want to think. Thinking means memories. Thoughts. Feelings.

She doesn’t want to feel.

(Maybe she should have just become a vampire after all.)

It starts with her chest. 

(Her heart got ripped out too.)

It travels into the core of her stomach, a hard pool of fire and ice scratching and clawing at her insides.

(Remember when it was butterflies instead?)

Her fingers and toes are numb, _so numb_  - they tingle without feeling. It hurts to move.

( _You came back. When do I not?_ )

And then she sees her bag.

Bonnie hasn’t touched it since… _before_. Abby had brought it in, filled with her clothes. _His clothes_. She remembers stealing his green long-sleeved shirt, throwing a navy one she had bought him for Christmas back at his face. He had laughed, eyes bright and shining, and said nothing as they folded clothes together in a pleasant silence.

(It’s a silence that suffocates her now.)

Without thinking, and perhaps with only feeling, Bonnie pulls the bag towards the edge of the bed. She unzips it.

His shirt’s on top.

Without hesitation, she strips off her top - the same one, covered in sweat and a little blood and many, _many_  tears - and pulls his on. It’s soft and somehow warm and the sleeves are too big as she curls fingers into tiny balls. She lays down on her side, knees curled up. 

It smells like him. (Vanilla and cinnamon and that hint of _Enzo_.) Her covered hand gravitates naturally to her chest - to the pendant still hanging around her neck. She grasps it firmly and takes in a long breath.

That’s when the tears start.

(And as she’s crying, the feelings and thoughts too much, she imagines his arm snaking around her waist. He pulls her closer, chest against her back. His heartbeat is usually soft, but now it’s _loud_  and present - and Bonnie knows this is all in her head, that his heart is on pavement somewhere, but she imagines him kissing her neck, fingers curled into her hair, whispering _I love you_  over and over again.

The tears still fall.)


End file.
